


The Gods Flip a Coin

by lucifersfavoritechild



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Burn baby burn, Canon Typical Incest, Dark Daenerys Targaryen, Dark Jon Snow, Dark Jonerys, F/M, Fire and Blood, Picks up from 8.06, Targaryen Restoration, You probably won't like this, boat baby, fair warning, if you like Sansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-15 08:24:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19291957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifersfavoritechild/pseuds/lucifersfavoritechild
Summary: Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin. Jon's coin falls.





	1. The Fall of a Coin

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I got too much on my plate to also write this, but I'm salty about season 8 and I have to do something.
> 
> Warning: Sansa Stark dies in this fic. I do not like season 8 Sansa. Book Sansa and pre-season8 Sansa are fine, but they aren't here anymore. Don't go complaining in the comments when it happens, because I'll just delete your comment.

When Melisandre rose him from the dead, he’d thought he was in Hell.

The air had abandoned his lungs. He could feel the pain in his chest and stomach as well as if the knives had never left. Sometimes, he felt the scars that marked what had happened to him, as though his body did not understand why the pain had left.

He didn’t know why he thought of it then, walking to the throne room, snow and ash mingling above him. He only knew that the moment Olly stabbed him was the first time he’d felt something inside of him break.

Oh, there were moments before that came close. He knew that now, recognized them. When Bran fell, when his father was beheaded, when Robb was murdered. But before his death, nothing had managed to crack him.

Now he knew it well. When he couldn’t save Rickon, when Viserion had breathed his blue fire on him and he lived, when Rhaegal died. Jon stilled, remembering how it felt as though a spear had pierced his throat and chest. He’d fallen from his horse, certain he was dying again before he realized the truth.

Now, he could feel himself teetering on the edge of another break. Something inside him said that this would be the last, and he would either be whole at the end or lost to himself.

He turned his thoughts from that when he saw Daenerys standing before the iron throne, as beautiful as when they had ridden above the frozen North on Drogon and Rhaegal. She looked at him, smiling the slightest bit before looking back to the throne. “When I was a girl, my brother told me it was made with a thousand swords from Aegon’s fallen enemies. What do a thousand swords look like in the mind of a little girl who can’t count to twenty? I imagined a mountain of swords too high to climb, so many fallen enemies you could only see the soles of Aegon’s feet.”

Jon walked as she spoke, coming to stand before her. She was smiling, wanting him to share in her victory.

“I saw them executing Lannister prisoners in the street. They said they were acting on _your_ orders.”

Her smile fell, but she did not seem truly upset. “It was necessary.”

“ _Necessary?_ Have you been down there? Have you  _seen?_ Children, little children, _burned!_ ” His voice echoed through the broken hall.

Daenerys spoke calmly, as though to soothe him. In the light, her eyes looked almost purple. “I tried to make peace with Cersei. She used their innocence as a weapon against me. She thought it would cripple me.”

“And Tyrion?” He wanted to be convinced, he could admit to himself. He did not want to think her a monster.

“He conspired behind my back with my enemies.” She stepped closer to him. “How have you treated people who’ve done the same to you, even when it broke your heart?”

For a moment, he did not see her at all. Only Olly, swinging from a rope as his corpse turned pale and blue. He tried to shake the thought away. “Forgive him.”

Daenerys shook her head. “I can’t.”

“You can forgive all of them, make them  _see_ they made a mistake! Make them understand.” His voice was shaking. He felt like a coin desperately trying to keep its balance so it didn’t fall to either side, though it knew the inevitable was coming. “ _Please_ , Dany.”

Daenerys looked almost sad. “We can’t hide behind small mercies. The world we need won’t be built by men loyal to the world we have.”

“The world we need is a world of mercy, it has to be!”

“And it will be.” She stepped before him, only inches from his face. Her voice was a whisper. “It’s not easy to see something that’s never been before. A _good_ world.”

“How do you know?” He thought he might be begging. “How do you know it’ll be good?”

“Because I know what is good,” she said simply. “And so do you.”

“I don’t.” He didn’t even know what he was anymore. _You know nothing, Jon Snow._

Dany’s hands fell on his chest and shoulder, holding him steady. “You do. You do, you’ve _always_ known.”

He stared at her, wanting it to be true because he did not know what he would do if it wasn’t. “What about everyone else? All the other people who think they know what’s good?”

She smiled. “They don’t get to choose.” She leaned into him. “Be with me. Build the new world with me. _This i_ s our reason. It has been from the beginning, when you were a little boy with a bastard’s name and I was a little girl who couldn’t count to twenty. We do it together. We break the wheel _together_.” She took his hand, setting it over her stomach. “And our child will do the same.”

Jon froze. He knew the truth of the words when she said them, yet it felt unreal, like a dream he desperately wanted to be true.

He fell to his knees in front of her, the sword at his side forgotten. His hands hovered over her stomach, as though she were soft and fragile. “You are my  _queen_. Now and always.”

In the distance, Drogon roared loud enough to shake the city. Jon broke and knew it was the last time.


	2. The Red Priestess

They flew above Winterfell, the people small and dark against the snow. Jon leaned forward, feeling Dany’s warmth.

He had been wary of her flying with the baby, but she was firm in her position. “Amongst the Dothraki it is custom that a pregnant woman rides until the moment of birth. I will do no less now.”

Jon accepted, knowing that Drogon would not allow harm to come to his mother. But it was comforting to ride behind her and know that if all else failed, he would not.

He could see fear on the Northerners faces when Drogon landed in the courtyard. He found it didn’t matter to him as it once would have. They would either fear them or not, and it did not matter if they did.

Sansa was there to see them, as she had been before. Jon saw her differently now. _A traitor. Oathbreaker._ Something would have to be done with her. Dany wanted her dead, but he would avoid it if he could. She was still family, and he did not want to be a kinslayer. After Ned Stark had taken his secret to death protecting him, it was the least he could do.

But it did not stop him from wondering what her screams would sound like.

Sansa smiled at them — genteel, false, snake-like. “Welcome back, your grace. I see that you’re well.”

Daenerys smiled, her eyes shining the way they did now. “I am. As is your brother.” She held out her hand, looking back to him.

Jon did not hesitate to take it, stepping forward. He could see the exact moment Sansa noticed what he was wearing. The deep red fabric and black cloak that mimicked Dany’s, clearly stating his allegiance to anyone who cared to look.

Sansa did not react in any way that one who didn’t know her would see. Her face was once more a porcelain mask, giving no more than she allowed. “There is someone else who wishes to see you.”

From the crowd gathered to greet them, a woman stepped forth, clad in the scarlet robes of Asshai. Her eyes were as green and sharp as a jade knife. Around her throat wrapped a necklace identical to that of the priestess Melisandre.

She fell to her knees before Daenerys. “Once, when the spider and the lion came to Volantis, they asked me to spread your message amongst the people. I told them the truth: I have already accepted you as my queen, as have many in the First Daughter of Valyria. There, your children outnumber the slavers and long for your liberation.” She raised her eyes. “For you were reborn from fire to remake the world, and I wish to serve you until the end of all days.”

Daenerys smiled as she did in the throne room, certain of her fate. “What is your name?”

“Kivara, your grace. I was the High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis, the Flame of Truth, the Light of Wisdom, and First Servant of the Lord of Light. But I abandoned all titles to come here, running from the city on a ship from the Bay of Dragons.”

Daenerys touched the woman’s soft brown hair. “Rise, Kinvara. I will take you into my service. And I swear that you shall be all that you were and more by my side.”

Kinvara stood. The snow never touched her or her clothes, repelled by the heat and power that radiated from the jewel at her throat.

Daenerys held her hand, her voice raising so that all could hear her. “I will go to Volantis! I will kill the slavemasters and strike the chains from my children! But your first act as the High Priestess of Westeros shall be to crown me, and wed myself and Jon Snow!”

Jon smiled as the crowd cheered, invigorated by Daenerys’s energy, her vision for the future that he shared with her. The world seemed so much simpler now. He only hoped everyone would see it one day.

He did not even care at the way Sansa stared at them with ice-blue eyes.


	3. Vision of a Future

Kinvara stood with Daenerys, Jon, and Grey Worm, the only advisors she trusted anymore. Perhaps everyone she would ever trust was in the room with her, even the child growing in her belly.

Kinvara waited until Daenerys acknowledged her to speak. “If you go to Volantis first, your children there will replenish your armies to see their siblings across the known world freed.”

Daenerys sat at the head of a small table, Jon at her back. “Then that is what we shall do.”

“Preparations must begin immediately,” Jon said. “We will call upon Yara and her Ironborn, and the Reach and Dorne shall provide food and coin.”

“All of this must be done,” Kinvara agreed. “But first, there is another thing I must show you.” She sent two servants to bring a great wooden chest from the room she had slept in. “This is all I brought from Essos. It is a gift from Asshai and the Lord of Light, who has chosen you as his champion.”

The chest, plain and inconspicuous, was set before Jon and Dany. Kinvara reverently opened it, stepping back so they might view the treasures inside.

Jon stared at the dragon eggs that lay nestled in soft fabric. His hands moved with no thought from him, gently lifting one of them. It was gray and dappled with swirls of black, scaled and mesmerizing to look at.

Dany smiled to see him. “You will name that one, my heart.” Her eyes turned to the remaining eggs, one white-and-red and the other purple-and-silver. “But these shall be mine.”

* * *

Jon carefully held the egg above the box in his room, speaking quietly. “When your sibling is born, you will be their companion and grow alongside them as I did with Robb, and one day you shall fight together against your enemies.” He turned silent when Sansa entered the room, not bothering to ask or announce herself. He set the egg down out of her sight and closed the chest.

The former siblings stared at each other.

Sansa spoke first, always wanting to steer him her way. “How was this allowed to happen?”

He was tempted not to acknowledge that at all. “I’m afraid you must be more specific.”

“You brought her back here after what she _did_ ,” Sansa hissed, lowering her voice so none would hear her conspiring against there queen.

“You should be more careful of what you say about her.”

“Why? Or she will burn me as she did Cersei and King’s Landing?”

“Perhaps.”

Sansa stilled, shocked. “Do you hear yourself? She massacred a _city_. She just made a red priestess the highest spiritual authority on the _continent_! _No one_ is going to accept this—”

“They will, or we will make them. People may believe what they believe, but we are trying to build a new world, and loyalty and service must be rewarded.” He looked at her, a thousand words in his eyes. “And treason punished.”

Had her face always been so cold? Her eyes so calculating? He could not remember what she was like as a child. “Where is Varys? Tyrion?”

“Killed as traitors deserve.” He could still smell Vary’s burnt flesh, feel Tyrion’s blood on his hands as it fell from his sword.

“And you think yourself safe? She will turn on you as she has all others.”

“They lied to her, conspired against her. I will _never_ be like them.”

“We can't trust her,” Sansa said, growing frustrated.

Jon looked at her as he did to Tyrion before his death. “And I can't trust you.”


	4. The Last of the Starks

“I don’t think Bran is human.”

Jon had grown use to his youngest sister lurking on the edges of the shadows. It did not surprise him when she spoke, and he only waited for her to continue.

Arya’s voice never wavered as she spoke, staring out a window. “He doesn’t speak anymore. Ever since I killed the Night King, he cares about the world less and less. He won’t see more or Sansa. He only eats when someone makes him. Most of the time when I go into his room, his eyes are white and lifeless.” She looked at him. “But you wouldn’t have noticed.”

“I noticed,” Jon said, his voice thick. He had known the moment he saw Bran that he was not the baby brother Jon had left behind so many years ago. Even now, when all ways different and new, he saw it.

Arya did not acknowledge him. “Once I dreamed of nothing more than coming home. Now that I’m here, I find it stranger to me than Braavos. Bran is not himself and never will be again. Perhaps he died the day he fell, and an imposter lives in him now. Sansa schemes without thought of what her actions may bring. Even now, she’s locked in her room, plotting, not trusting anyone. And you’ve tied yourself to the Mad Queen.”

“You shouldn’t call her that,” Jon said sharply. It was not true. Daenerys was all that was good in the world, the only one who wanted to fix it and had the power to do so.

Arya didn’t respond, idly fingering the handle of her Valyrian steel dagger as she stared at him.

Jon shook his head, realizing what she intended to do. “Arya, listen to me. You are my sister. I have always loved you. And so I am asking you, please, do not do what you're thinking of. Don't do that to her or me.” _Don’t make me kill you, little sister. Don’t make me lose you too._

Arya hesitated, looking away from him. When she spoke again, her voice was cold and colorless. “I’ll need a ship. And sailors willing to transverse the Sunset Sea.”

“You’ll have it.” Yara was bringing her ships with her, as was the new Dornish Princess, Arianne. One could be found for Arya. “Will you come back?”

“I don’t know. No one’s ever returned from the west. Perhaps I’ll be the first.”

Jon smiled. “Arya Underfoot, Slayer of the Night King and the Navigator of the Sunset. You’ll be famous in all the known world.”

Arya didn’t smile back.

* * *

He found Kinvara in the godswood outside, staring into a burning brazier. She saw him before he was there, and waited his arrival.

Jon stared at the fire. _Will it burn me? Will I let it?_ He wanted to know, but it was not the time.

He looked at the priestess. “Do you see Sansa in your fire?” _Even now, she’s locked in her room, plotting, not trusting anyone._

The flames burned black. 


	5. Wake the Dragon

Guests soon began to arrive from the south. 

The Reach sent Lord Leyton Hightower with his Florent wife to bend the knee and accept the title of Lords Paramount of the Reach. With them came wagons of wheat and barley, melons and apples and fireplums and peaches and grapes, fish and eel and capon and chicken, boar and goat and mutton, fine wines both red and gold. The first thing Lord Hightower did was praise Daenerys for killing the golden tyrant Cersei Lannister and her brothers, one a traitor and the other an incestuous kingslayer. None could miss the pleasure with which she accepted his oath, nor her anger when it was learned that Edmure Tully would not come as he was still struggling to bring the Riverlands under control. Jon threatened to cut out the tongue of a man who suggested that Edmure did not want to attend the wedding of his brother-in-law’s bastard. Sansa had been left to smooth out tensions as neither Jon nor Daenerys seemed interested in any such thing.

Robin Arryn soon joined them with the intention of bringing his men back to the Vale, though he pledged a small number of soldiers to Daenerys. Arianne Martell, Doran’s daughter who had run to Essos when her father was killed, came and pledged ten thousand men and her own spear to Daenerys in gratitude for avenging Elia and her little children at last. 

From North of the Wall came Tormund, Ghost, and a handful of Freefolk to honor the Dragon Queen and King who were loved for their hand in the Battle for the Dawn. The direwolf had since taken to guarding the queen, sensing her pregnancy long before they had told anyone. 

By the morning of the wedding, everyone important had arrived. Even Daario from across the sea had sent gifts, though he did not deign to come himself. Unsullied guarded every door, silent and unyielding as ever. 

As soon as Jon rose, he went to the crypts to pay respect to his once-father and brothers before going to the godswood. He cleaned his sword as he did each morning, feeling as though Bran was watching him from the face carved into the weirwood tree. It was a nice thought. Bran had not spoken in a week, his eyes white and open every time someone checked on him or brought him food. This way, it felt as though his brother was truly with him and not the thing that had taken his place. 

When he returned to prepare for the coronation, Grey Worm met him at his room with a letter in hand. Jon read it silently.

_I'm to board my ship in a few hours. Hopefully this reaches you and you won't worry for me as you did for so many years. Perhaps we'll meet again when you've conquered the world and me the seas. — Arya_

He sighed in relief, knowing now that Arya was gone she could do nothing once the business with Sansa was finished.

Jon dismissed Grey Worm and began to prepare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact that no one's thinking about, wolves can tell when someone is pregnant


	6. Fire and Blood

* * *

Her crown was a band of dragon bone, as black as Drogon's scales, and studded with shining red rubies. Carved dragons danced around the band that circled her silver-gold hair. Her throne was made of melted down swords that had been taken from the Lannister soldiers of King’s Landing. When she sat in it, she looked every bit the queen she was.

“By the Lord of Light and Heart of Fire, I now proclaim Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the Unburnt, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons, and Azor Ahai, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, of all the Known World, Protector of the Realm, Lady of Essos, Westeros, Sothoryos, and Ulthos. Long may she reign!”

The crowd chanted back, Jon’s voice the loudest. “Long may she reign! Long may she reign! Long may she reign!” 

Daenerys looked out on her people, freed men and nobles and smallfolk who had come to see their queen, and smiled.

* * *

Jon sat by his queen at the feast, both of them clothed in Targaryen black-and-red. Daenerys smiled when she sent a plate of food over to a table of poor children, looking at Jon and taking his hand. "One day I shall like to build a great temple to all the gods of the world, old and new, Western and Eastern. It will be bigger than the burnt Sept and the Dragonpit combined, the greatest man has ever seen."

Jon smiled fondly, candlelight flickering over his face, making him seem older and shaper. “Then you will.” He wanted to lean in and kiss her, but through the warmth and the light, he saw Sansa, watching them before looking away sharply. 

Jon pulled back, his mood turning dark. It was only Dany’s Unsullied guards that had prevented her from stealing the dragon eggs the night before, their future in the hands of a traitor. Her fate had already been sealed when Kinvara told him what she saw, but now he was more certain than ever. If Sansa thought she could take their children, then it was not his fault what happened to her. She should have known not to wake the dragon.

The red priestess stood without having eaten anything, quieting everyone in the great hall. She bowed solemnly before Daenerys, her voice carrying through the room. “Your grace, it is time.”

Daenerys nodded once before taking Jon’s hand, linking their fingers together. They rose together, leading a procession outside with the Unsullied and Dothraki just behind them. Most of the Northerners were too drunk to follow quickly enough, or to rise at all, and found themselves behind everyone else, barely able to fit in the godswood at all with so many people. Kinvara had done her magic well.

It had snowed for days leading up to the coronation and wedding, but now the skies were clear, the moon looking down on them silently. Lanterns led the way to the weirwood tree at the center of it all. Red eyes stared at him — Bran, alive with the Old Gods of their father. Drogon flew overhead, his wings casting a shadow over them all, and Ghost trotted up to Jon and Dany, silent as a shadow.

Before the weirwood, a wooden pyre had been erected whilst they celebrated. Jon knew that Kinvara had fashioned it after the ones that filled Winterfell after the Battle for the Dawn, and was glad for it. 

Kinvara stood between the wooden pile and the tree, the gem at her throat glowing. She raised one hand, and two servants came forward, carrying the box that held their future. Daenerys opened it, gently cradling the white-and-red egg in her gloved hands as Jon stood beside Sansa. As the queen laid their eggs around the pyre, Jon nodded silently to Grey Worm.

The Master of War moved immediately, three of Dany’s bloodriders behind him. He grabbed Sansa’s arm.

Sansa jerked in his grip, unable to move as Rakharo took her other arm, unyielding in his glare. She looked at him before turning to stare at Jon and Daenerys. “What are you doing? What’s happening?”

Daenerys’s eyes were burned into her. “Sansa Stark, you have conspired against your queen to turn my loyal friends and allies against me, and betrayed an oath that you swore in front a weirwood tree. For this, I find you guilty of treason and oathbreaking and sentence you to death.”

Suddenly, Drogon descended, landing behind Sansa and forcing anyone who might have helped her back. Sansa shook her head. “No. No, no, _no_ , you can’t—”

“It’s not up to you,” Jon said quietly.

Sansa heard him, the blood draining from her already pale face. “Jon, not you. Jon, _please—_ ”

“I wish it had been different.” He didn’t say he was sorry because he wasn’t, and he was taught not to lie. “But I can never forgive you for what you’ve done.” He looked at the eggs, hard as stone and resting against the wood. “And dragons are born in fire and blood.”

Grey Worm and Rakharo moved, dragging Sansa towards the pyre while she screamed at them to stop. Some of the North and Valemen tried to rush forward, but Drogon roared, blowing a plume of fire over their heads that stopped them in their tracks. 

Sabsa was sobbing, tears rolling down her porcelain face. “Jon, help me, _PLEASE!_ ”

Jon turned from her, looking at Dany. When his sister was burning and the eggs hatched, they would be wed in front of the Old Gods and the New, ushering in a new time for the world. 

Sansa was tied to the pyre and everyone but Jon and Daenerys stood back. The girl could barely stand, the eyes of their brother looking down at them from the tree. “Jon . . .”

Jon looked at her before nodding to Dany, and his voice carried through the godswood. “ _Dracarys._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could write more about Jon and Dany having dragons and babies and taking over the world, but honestly, that sounds like a lot of work. Just know it happens.
> 
> Now that I've got ... THAT out of my system, I'm gonna go hibernate until TWoW comes out. I might never wake up.


End file.
